Her Fake Grave My True Freedom
Language: en
When the syndicate’s traitor pulled the trigger five years ago, Corinne threw herself in front of the bullet for me. She wrapped her arms around the gunman and dragged him off the edge of the pier, plunging them both into the churning, icy black water below. The day her battered body was dragged from the harbor, I dropped to my knees so hard the crushed gravel dug deep into my flesh. Right there, choking on bile and seawater, I swore a blood debt against every single person responsible. It took me three brutal years to hunt down the remnants of that faction. When it was done, I hung the…